Dinner at the Loft
by Lioness Black
Summary: [Oneshot.] Roger loves Mimi. Mark thinks Mimi is great. How do they tell her that she can't cook?


Title: Dinner at the Loft   
Author: Lioness Black  
Rating: PG  
Genre: General/Humor  
Summary: Roger loves Mimi. Mark thinks Mimi is great. How do they tell her that she can't cook?   
Disclaimer: Not mine, just good fun.

* * *

"You know... there are times that we're dirt broke and hungry and freezing and I ask myself why the hell am I still living here?" Mark and Roger were sitting on the couch 

"You won't be hungry for long!" Mimi walked into the loft before Roger could say anything. Her arms were loaded down with grocery bags. "I'm making dinner!"

Neither Mark nor Roger reacted right away. They looked at each other, then Roger jumped up off the couch and helped Mimi with the bags, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"What are you making?" Mark asked.

"Spaghetti and meatballs. Old family recipe. And I'm making our own garlic bread. I'm also making a batch of tofu balls for Collins." She paused and shuddered. "I hate that phrase, tofu balls. That has to be the most indirect dirty comment ever."

Roger and Mark both laughed.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Roger asked. "I mean, we can just... order pizza or something."

"We can't afford to order pizza," Mimi said. "I got the makings for enough food to last us a week, at the same cost of one pizza."

"A week?" Mark repeated in a deadpan.

"Yup! You might be frozen, Mark, but you won't be hungry."

"That's up for debate," he muttered. Mimi didn't hear him, but Roger shot him a glare.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Roger asked. "I can make garlic bread, I've never done it before, but I can try. And, you know, spaghetti sauce, I can do that."

Mimi shook her head. "I have everything under control. You guys do whatever you want."

"Are you sure? I don't have a job, and you worked all night last night. I can make dinner. Really."

"I can help," Mark added.

"When I moved in here, guys, I wanted to be able to help out as much as I could."

"You're the only one who works," Roger said. "That helps. Really, Mark and I can cook. You need your rest. It's not good for you to over exert yourself."

"My health is fine, Roger Davis," she said. "You guys, go sit. Write songs, make films. Do what you do. I'm going to make dinner." She pulled out a large knife and a clove of garlic. "I saw this demonstration at the store about using fresh garlic like this. You whack it with a knife and then you can pull away all the skin."

Mark jumped off the couch and grabbed the knife away from Mimi. "Let me. I mean, you cut yourself..."

She paused. "Okay, good point."

Roger gave Mark another look, this time one of thanks. The last thing they needed was garlic flying around the kitchen.

Mimi turned her attention to making sauce. She opened three cans of tomato sauce and dumped them into a pan. She turned on the burner and walked across the kitchen to get the hamburger out to start making meatballs. She stopped and looked at Roger.

"Will you stop hovering?" she asked.

"I just want to help," he said.

"You can help by letting me do this." She walked over to him and slid her arms around his waist. "I love you, and most guys would jump at the chance to have a girl who cooks. I'm Miss Sexuality all night at work. Can't you just give me a night of Miss Domestic?"

Mark cringed. Roger was a goner now.

Sure enough, Roger gave her a sheepish sort of smile. "Miss Domestic sounds pretty hot."

"See? I'll be Suzy Homemaker. Aprons make hot props."

"Guys? Food, remember?" Mark asked.

"Sorry," Mimi said. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. She looked back to Roger. "I'm going to make meatballs, tofu balls, Mark's going to do all the chopping, and then both of you are going to go out and find things for Mark to film. You got that?"

"Okay, all right," Roger said. "You win. Oh, the tomato sauce is boiling."

"Shit!" Mimi pulled away from Roger and turned the heat down. Tomato sauce was already splattered against the walls.

Maybe it was best to just leave it alone and hope that she didn't burn down the building.

So after Mark finished chopping everything that needed to be chopped (which took longer than expected since Mimi kept remembering something else that needed to be chopped), he and Roger left.

"If she wasn't so damn earnest about it," Roger said, once they were on the street. "Maybe I could discourage it. Do you remember the time she made the chicken and rice?"

"That was chicken?" Mark asked. "I thought it was beef jerky."

"Or the vegetable soup?"

"The quiche."

"Someone should have told her that you're supposed to scramble the eggs."

"Really, Roger, how is possible for someone to screw up hamburgers? You know I like Mimi, I think she's great. I love it that she lives with us, she great, but your girlfriend should not be allowed to make anything more complicated that toast."

Roger nodded.

---

When they came back to the loft two hours later, both Roger and Mark had to admit that it smelled pretty good. There was a card table set up in the corner with chairs pulled up to it. There were four place settings.

"We're back!" Roger said. He looked into the kitchen, where Mimi was staring at two trays of meatballs with a horribly perplexed look on her face. "Hon?"

She looked up. "I mixed up the meatballs and the tofu balls. I don't know if they taste the same, but they sure look alike."

"Are you going to try them and figure it out?" Mark asked. He agreed, they did look alike. He wasn't sure what tofu balls were supposed to look like, but meatballs _weren't _supposed to be a grey color with- "What are those red specks?"

"Red pepper," Mimi said.

"Oh. I see."

She picked up one of the balls. "Oh god, I can't try this."

Mark and Roger exchanged a look. Did she realize that if that was a meatball, it looked disgusting?

"I just can't eat tofu," she said. Roger let his held breath.

"I'll do it," Mark said bravely. He took it from her and took a bite, apparently before he could change his mind. The look on his face was hard to decipher.

"Mark?" Mimi asked. "Swallow."

Mark did. "I think... that was a tofu ball." It had to be to not taste like meat, but just like red pepper and... it couldn't be fish, could it?

"Well, try one of these, just to be sure." She pushed the other tray toward him.

He looked like he was going to cry. However, he picked one up and ate it. It had a hint of meat flavor, but it was still a fiery spice and slightly fishy. "Yeah, that's a meatball."

"Oh, good. Collins is back in his room," she said. "I was freaking out."

Roger sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"

"The garlic bread!" Mimi spun around and opened up the stove. A cloud of black smoke filled the kitchen.

"Is there a fire?" Mark asked, coughing.

"No, just smoke, but... oh, it's just a little burnt."

Whatever Mimi considered to be a lot burnt was probably inedible. Not that the mostly black bread before them seemed all that appetizing.

"You guys can help me now," Mimi said. "Take the spaghetti and the sauce to the table, will you? Thanks, guys."

"The sauce doesn't smell horrible," Roger whispered to Mark.

"It doesn't smell like anything," Mark replied.

"If it doesn't taste like anything, then it won't taste bad."

Collins walked into the room. "Hey, guys."

"Collins!" they said in unison.

"Did you see that Mimi made you tofu balls?" Mark asked.

"Uh, no." Collins' eyes glazed over. "Great."

Mimi walked in, holding a plate stacked with the blackened garlic bread. "We're ready, everyone!"

They sat down, and Mimi gave each of them a heaping serving. She didn't eat, she just watched them, her smile glowing. "Go ahead. Dig in."

"Boy, Mimi," Roger said. "This looks..." He couldn't come up with a word, so he just sucked it up and took a bite.

It crunched.

Should spaghetti crunch?

"What do you think?" she asked.

Roger chewed it again, another crunch filling the room. He forced a smile and gave her a thumbs up.

She squealed happily.

Then he motioned for everyone else to eat.

It was the longest dinner ever.


End file.
